Estella's Meeting
by kawaiiLizard
Summary: Estella happens upon a familiar face at the tailor's... Could it be who she thinks it is?
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This is a writing assignment from December of 2000 (ninth grade) where we had to write a spin-off of _Great Expectations_ by Charles Dickens using a character other than Pip. This is written in a way similar to a very detailed diary entry, if you will.  
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Estella's Meeting  
  
  


_Chapter One  
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When I entered the tailor's shop on the corner I had it set in my mind that I would buy my dress, then leave and return to Satis House. What I had not planned for was to have someone call out my name.  
"Miss Estella?" The tentative voice called out to me, and I froze. It sounded so familiar, yet so foreign, both at the same time. Whoever it was most have noticed the change in my posture, for they tapped me gently on the shoulder. I turned slowly and blinked at the sight before me. The voice belonged to a man, perhaps around my age of four-and-thirty. He was well dressed and very presentable, with an air of authority and self-respect about him.  
"My Lord, it is you!" he said softly. To my immense surprise, there appeared to be tears in his eyes.  
"I apologize, dear sir, but may I ask who you are?" My question brought more tears, which I began to grow concerned with.  
"Oh Estella, look." He pointed to a tear running down his cheek.  
"You have made me cry once again." For some reason these words registered within my memory and I gasped as realization hit me square in the face.  
The handsome gentleman who stood before me in the tailor's shop was none other than Pip.  
  
  
(c) 2000 Liz D.  
  
  



	2. Chapter 2

_Chapter Two  
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He had grown since I last saw him- he had filled out, maybe even grown a few inches, but that is unlikely. What is likely, however, is that since I had not seen him in so long, it merely appeared to me that he had changed so much that he was beyond recognition. And recognize him I had not, and for this I felt guilty. When I had last seen Pip he had been only two-and-twenty, on the brink of becoming a proper gentleman. Now, in his sophisticated grey suit, at what I guessed to be about five-and-thirty years of age, he was the very image of gentility. I could not believe my eyes; he had grown so over the years!  
But had it really been all that long? The years had passed by so quickly that I knew not what to make of it. I had not seen Pip since that day, thirteen years prior to our encounter, when he and I had disagreed over my relationship with a certain Mr. Bentley Drummle. (Ah, how I regret ever knowing that man now!) After accompanying Mrs. Brandley, her daughter, and myself back to the house at Richmond, he left, and I never saw him again. Rather, I never saw him again until that day last week when we happened upon each other in the tailor's shop.  
The tailor saved us from the slightly awkward silence, asking for his payment so that he could attend to other customers. When I moved to retrieve the money from my purse, Pip shooed my hand away, saying that he would take care of it. As if emphasizing his words, he pulled out his wallet, set the money down before the tailor, picked up my dress, and ushered me out of the shop.  
"Miss Havisham did not tell you that you must pay from your own purse this time, did she?" It was only then that I regained control of my tongue and dismissed my speechlessness with a sad laugh.  
"No, she did no such thing. My puppet strings were cut long ago, Pip." He smiled when I used his name, just as he had when I had first used it. I frowned for a moment when the memory of that day was slow to come back to me, but quickly shook the look from my face and smiled right back. I do not quite remember why I asked him what I did next, but whatever my reasons were they must have made sense at the time.  
"Pip, would you like to have dinner with me tonight?" The smile that still lingered on his face increased tenfold, and he nodded eagerly. He proffered his arm to me, and, without even realizing what I was doing, I slipped my arm through his. Together we walked through the icy streets, headed to Satis House.  
  
  
(c) 2000 Liz D.  
  
  



	3. Chapter 3

_Chapter Three_  
  
Upon our arrival at Satis House, Sarah Pocket came to the gate and unlocked it for us; just as I had done so many times for Pip when we were younger, before I went away to France to be properly educated. As we crossed through the courtyard and into the house, I heard Pip exclaim softly. Evidently, he had not been there since Miss Havisham had died.  
Miss Havisham had left Satis House to me in her will, stating that I could do whatever I pleased with it, so long as it stayed in the family. (What family she was referring to I have no idea, even to this day. Mr. Jaggers told me that he was not informed of the specified family either, so I have come to assume that if I am ever to have a family of my own, Satis House is to stay in it.) After enduring the darkness of that house for five-and-twenty odd years, I was finally able to open it up. I took it upon myself to clean the place up, namely by opening the windows, tending to the garden, and other simple things of that sort. The change had been a drastic one, and Pip noticed it as we passed through the house. Everything was bright with sunlight indoors; outdoors, brilliantly coloured flowers bloomed in what used to be a garden overgrown with weeds.  
Only two things remained the same from Miss Havisham's period of ownership: Miss Havisham's room, and the feast room. These I kept the way Miss Havisham had so diligently kept them. No sunlight was allowed to enter; the only light in these rooms, which were seldom used at all, came from candles or the fireplace. All clocks were kept at twenty to nine; Miss Havisham's dresser still had the shoe that was never worn; the jewels that I had not received sat in the exact spot they were in twenty years prior. In the feast room a heaping mound of grey dust sat in the centre of the table, all that was left of the wedding cake. The mice and beetles and spiders and had long since left, as the cake had just barely outlived its owner. When Pip politely asked to see these rooms (as I had explained that I had kept them the same) I consented, and together we toured Miss Havisham's rooms by candlelight only.  
He paused for quite some time before the long table in the feast room, pondering something (exactly what, I do not know). He seemed to be remembering something from long ago, for he was smiling sadly and nodding his head the whole while. I was about to ask him what he was thinking about when he spoke again. "Miss Havisham died how long ago?"  
I told him that it would be nine years this coming January. He nodded some more, but that was all. I wonder if, had not my servant boy come to notify us that dinner was on the table, he would have said something more to me concerning her death.  
Dinner was filled with polite conversation of what had been going on in our lives since we had parted ways thirteen years before. He told me of Herbert Pocket marrying his fiancée, Clara. He spoke of Mrs. Joe Gargery's death and the odd funeral that occurred thereafter. He remembered, with aid from my memory, the first time we had met, playing cards. We laughed when he reminded me that he called them knaves now, and not jacks. I told him about Miss Havisham's death and how Camilla, Raymond, Sarah Pocket, and Georgiana had received next to nothing in her will, while Matthew Pocket got his fair share and profuse thanks.  
"Yes, Herbert told me that his father had come into a great deal of portable property, but he did not specify from where. I wonder if he knew and did not want to tell me, for he feared that I might become upset." Pip sat across from me and throughout dinner I could not help but be enthralled by his eyes. They were so expressive, so full of half-forgotten memories and laughter that one could not help falling in love with them.  
The time came when Pip had to leave, and we were both thoroughly disappointed. Our memories were being rekindled, and neither of us wanted them to die out again. He promised to write from London soon with an invitation to join him for dinner at his home, and I said I was already looking forward to it. As he was leaving I recalled something that I had allowed him to do only twice before; calling him back, I sanctioned him once again. He bent and kissed my cheek, and I did not turn away.  
I am still awaiting Pip's invitation. I have thought often of him, particularly on those nights when I am alone and Satis House whispers to me, long forgotten memories returning, gradually, one at a time. Right now I must end my recollection of my meeting with dear Pip. Not only does my tale end here, but also my husband is home and Ruth, our daughter, is asking to play cards.  
  
  
(c)2000 Liz D.  



End file.
